


Rule 63 'verse

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Drabble Posts [9]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Drabble Collection, F/F, Ficlet Collection, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and ficlets from the universe where everyone has been Rule 63'd and is at least bicurious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

AoKuro, hands up skirts | AoKuro, introspection | AoKuro, Regency AU

* * *

**#andreaphobia**  
#Aomine and Kuroko, genderbent, hands up skirts at inappropriate times  
#Kuroko is evil 

The mistake a lot of people make with Tetsuna is thinking that she's a nice girl. To be fair, she does a pretty good job of faking it, Daiko has to hand it to her—she's quiet, and polite, and always neatly groomed. But all that—that's all surfaces and doesn't have a damn thing to do with what Tetsu really is, which is pure evil. 

The only reason they're getting away with this is because Kise is sprawled across two seats and is completely dead to the world. If it weren't for the fact that she's currently uttering a steady, ladylike snore, she'd be hanging over the back of the seat and chattering as fast as she could.

Of course, if that were the case, Tetsu probably wouldn't have slipped her hand under Daiko's skirt in the first place, either. Tetsu's evil, not stupid, and not inclined to share, either.

Tetsu shifts against Daiko's shoulder, burrowing against her; when she sighs, it rolls across Daiko's throat, hot and wet. Daiko presses her cheek against the glass of the window—it feels cool against her flushed skin—and grits her teeth as Tetsu slides her fingers up a little higher, tracing them against the inside of Daiko's thigh. It's close, too close and not close enough, and she could just about scream with frustration. But Murasakibara is sprawled in the seat across from them, staring dreamily at the passing countryside, and Midorima and Akashi are in the seat across from Kise's, their heads bent over a traveling shougi-ban, and the last thing Daiko wants is their attention.

Tetsu traces her nails against Daiko's skin. She keeps them short and filed smooth; the scrape of them makes Daiko shudder hard enough to rock Tetsu, too. Good thing the motion of the train is enough to excuse that. Tetsu draws patterns against the inside of Daiko's thigh, words maybe, but Daiko can't attend to them, not when she's fighting to keep her breathing even and when she's aching to grab Tetsu's hand and put it right where she's aching for it. 

She shudders again when Tetsu laughs, soundless, and her breath stirs against Daiko's skin, across nerves that are already exquisitely sensitive. She grips the armrest of her seat, hanging onto the solidity of it like a life preserver in a rough sea, and sinks her teeth into her lower lip when Tetsu moves her fingers up, up a little further, and presses them against her clit. Tetsu utters another of those silent laughs when she feels how soaked Daiko's panties are; it's all Daiko can do not to moan out loud when she rubs her fingers back and forth. The fabric of Daiko's panties moves, too, and that's all the friction it really takes—she's done and gone, shaking helplessly as she comes and barely managing to stifle her whimper as the sensation of it wrings down on her. Fuck alone knows how she manages not to scream with it, and it feels like an eternity goes past before Tetsu takes her fingers away and the pleasure begins to ebb and subside again. She sags against the window, trying not to pant for breath, and has to bite back a groan when Tetsu lifts her fingers to her lips and tastes them. 

"I am gonna get you for this," she hisses to Tetsu when she feels like she can manage it.

Tetsu only smiles up at her, serene. "I look forward to your attempt," she murmurs, and cuddles close again.

* * *

**#andreaphobia**  
#Tetsuna and Daiko, basketball  
#moody and introspective Kurokos ahead 

There's something that's very nearly magical about the way that Daiko plays basketball, like it's the one thing that she was born to do. Certainly it's the thing that comes easiest to her, the thing that brightens her eyes and makes her laugh as she dances across the court, always in perfect command of herself and the ball. Daiko blazes on the court so brightly that it's easy to get caught up in her fire. 

Tetsuna can't help wanting to draw closer to Daiko, or wanting to touch some of that brilliance for herself, even though the only genius she's ever going to have for herself is the kind born of sweat and hard work. But Daiko is generous, in her own way: When Tetsuna plays with her, some of that magic rubs off on her, too—her passes sear across the court to Daiko's waiting hands and her opponents can't keep her in their sights no matter what they try. If it's not perfection it's the next closest thing.

Daiko doesn't seem to be aware of any of this; that, Tetsuna thinks, may be part of the magic itself. Certainly she doesn't seem to quite realize the effect she has on others, her opponents and her teammates or even Tetsuna herself, and throws herself into the game instead while they chase after her (even when they know how impossible it is to catch her, even when they know that to try is to court heartbreak). Daiko breathes and bleeds basketball; for her there is never anything else _but_ basketball.

This is about basketball, too, though Tetsuna isn't entirely sure that Daiko knows it, or would really care if she did—Daiko is refreshingly straightforward, sometimes. Tetsuna imagines telling her why she pushes, sometimes, after practice, imagines explaining why she presses herself between Daiko's knees and slips her hands under Daiko's clothes to stroke the spare, strong lines of her body, barely softened by her curves—imagines saying that this way, at least, she can be sure of Daiko's attention and can hold, however briefly, some of that brilliance in her palm.

Perhaps she would laugh. Or perhaps she would simply shrug and ask what it mattered, as long as it felt good? Or perhaps she would simply say—

"You're thinking too much," Daiko complains, squirming under Tetsuna's palms and tugging at the tail of her hair. "Come on, some of us are getting old waiting."

Tetsuna doesn't smile, not really, but she does smooth her hands up Daiko's sides to cup her breasts. "My apologies," she says, softly, while Daiko makes an appreciative sound and arches into her hands. "I suppose I was."

Daiko grins at her, friendly, and pulls her close. "Long as you don't make a habit of it," she says, twisting Tetsuna's hair around her fingers. "Right now we've got better things to do, right?"

"Yes," Tetsuna says, and lets Daiko kiss her until the heat of her mouth washes all her thoughts away.

* * *

**#skyfireflies**  
#Aomine/Kuroko, genderbend, period piece, Aomine is bad at being a proper lady  
#fuck yeah Regency AU 

Aomine remains defiantly unrepentant, even after Midorima gives her a severe set-down for it and they've had to retrieve Kise's hartshorn to revive her from her swoon—"Oh, Aominecchi, you'll _never_ be given a voucher for Almack's now!" she'd cried, right before crumpling gracefully onto the settee—and Akashi has frowned at her for her shameful want of propriety. 

Momoi is no help at all; he indulges Aomine's freaks shamelessly and thinks it a fine joke that she ordered his new matched greys put to his phaeton and took them for a turn around the park. "Why shouldn't I?" he asks when Akashi expostulates with him. "She's a better whip than I'll ever be."

"Nevertheless," Akashi says. "It is not the done thing." And that is that.

"As if I give a damn for the done thing," Aomine says later, away from the rest of them. Kuroko takes a quick breath at the profanity, and Aomine tosses her head. "Well, I don't!"

Kuroko bites her lip and turns her attention to her needlework, setting careful stitches in her embroidery. "I know you don't," she says. "But perhaps you should. You wouldn't want to be thought fast."

The sound Aomine makes then is indescribably rude; she tosses her own needlework aside and stands to take a quick turn around the room. "Fast! Oh, Tetsu, you should have been there with me. Those greys are _wasted_ on him. It was like _flying_." Her eyes sparkle as she says it; her color is high, and she has never looked so fine standing up in a drawing room as she does now, still rumpled from her stolen drive. 

"That may be, but it was not very proper." Kuroko can't help smiling, though, because Momoi has taken her up with him a few times and she can imagine how glorious it must have been—he does not spare any expense on his cattle, and Aomine has a deft touch at the reins. She forces herself to school her expression. "Still, one does wonder how you expect to find a husband when you insist on being such a hoyden."

Aomine makes another of those inelegant sounds and comes to sit at Kuroko's feet, heedless of the gown she is crushing into ruin. "Husbands," she said. "That's all anyone ever talks of around here." She screws up her lovely face in disgust. "As if there's any worry of that. Even Murasakibara has four thousand a year."

"I don't," Kuroko reminds her, though it does not sting so much when it is Aomine who reminds her of her impoverished status. Aomine never cares for such things, after all, and sees all her wealth as the merest means to her ends. 

Aomine seizes her hand and grasps it. "You know, I've been thinking," she says then, gazing up at Kuroko. For all that her tone is light, her eyes are serious. "I have had a _famous_ idea. What if we don't get married at all? You're my dearest friend, Tetsu, and I hate the idea of giving you up to any of your suitors. Stay with me always."

Kuroko laughs, though there is something about the way Aomine looks at her that sends a queer throb through her. " _What_ suitors?" she asks, trying to retrieve her fingers.

Aomine holds fast. "Say you will," she says, insistent. "I have ten thousand a year; that's more than enough to keep us. We can take a house together and keep a whole stable of the best cattle. It'll be wonderful. Say you will, Tetsu, please?"

Kuroko never has been able to deny Aomine what she asks. Nevertheless. "You'll change your mind," she says, sliding her fingers from Aomine's grasp and stroking them through the unruly mess of Aomine's hair. "One of _your_ suitors will come along with a fine pair of matched bays and turn your head completely, and you'll forget about me." Aomine does have suitors, whole flocks of them undaunted by her bold spirit (or perhaps willing to ignore such a trait in an heiress of her status).

"Never," Aomine says, staunch. "I could never." She leans into Kuroko, folding her arms across Kuroko's lap and pillowing her chin on them. "Say yes, Tetsu. For me?"

Kuroko smiles then, helplessly fond, knowing that she will never be called upon to keep her word in this. "Since you insist. Yes."

Aomine smiles like the sunrise, brilliant and sweet. "This will be perfect," she declares. "You won't regret it, Tetsu."

And despite all expectations to the contrary, Kuroko never does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #kagasexual  
> #MidoTaka, Rule 63 'verse, makeup help  
> #in which Em fakes all cosmetic knowledge

"You know what the absolutely _ridiculous_ part is?" Takao squinted, eyebrows beetling, and reached out to rub her thumb against Midorima's cheekbone again. "The ridiculous part is how completely and utterly redundant this is. You're stupid pretty, Shin-chan, and I mean that."

Midorima strained all her willpower in an effort not to color at that, but she felt her cheeks warm anyway. The only thing to do was hope that the layer of foundation and now the blush that Takao was blending into her cheekbones was enough to conceal that fact. "Stupid pretty."

Takao grinned at her, eyes bright. "Yep. Stupid pretty."

Midorima pursed her lips—she wasn't going to ask, _she wasn't going to ask_ , she wasn't—"I get the impression that I'm supposed to take that as a compliment, but I don't quite see why."

Takao dropped the little sponge on the vanity and closed up the little pot of crème blush. "Don't you?" She sorted through the other little trays and pots and compacts and tubes, selecting several apparently at random. "Glasses off. I'm gonna do your eyes next."

"Do you have to?" Midorima objected, even as she took her glasses off and the sharp, bright edges of the room softened and blurred. 

"Mm, I don't think I have to do very much." Takao leaned close, peering at her. "Even your _eyelashes_ are fantastic. Shin-chan, is there anything that you're not good at?"

In the mouth of anyone else, that would have had an edge to it, would have been full of the astringent bitterness of jealousy and resentment or, at best, would have been heavy with the rueful sense of the speaker's own shortcomings. Takao was different from anyone Midorima had ever known, because she only sounded admiring. Delighted, even, with no resentment to sour it.

"Which one of us is doing my makeup again?" she asked.

Takao laughed. "Me, but only because your parents are super old-fashioned and strict and you needed to learn how to do it from _somewhere_." She brandished a tube. "Seriously, close your eyes now."

Midorima obeyed, trying not to flinch as Takao began brushing things against her lids and her eyelashes. The sensation was strange, soft and ticklish; Takao had leaned in close again, close enough that Midorima could feel the air move whenever Takao huffed out the little thoughtful noises that she made when she was concentrating especially hard. Something about that gave Midorima a strange feeling, restless and jumpy.

She made herself hold still in spite of that feeling, curling her fingers tight around the folded frame of her glasses, until Takao hummed. "Are you done yet?" Whatever Takao had done made her eyelashes feel strange and heavy; she itched to rub them. 

She heard the click of some small plastic container as Takao set it down, then felt Takao's fingers against the underside of her chin. They were cool and Midorima obediently tilted her chin up when she felt the pressure of them.

"Really, really stupid pretty," Takao said again, a peculiar hushed tone in her voice.

"What does that even _mean_?" Midorima asked, exasperated, wondering whether it was safe to open her eyes again or not.

Takao laughed, soft. "It means you're so pretty that it makes me kind of stupid, Shin-chan."

Then next thing Midorima knew, there was a strange soft pressure against her mouth, warm and a little bit moist. When she opened her eyes, her field of vision was full of Takao, watching her from bare centimeters away because Takao was _kissing her_.

Midorima froze and Takao drew back. She smiled, small and a little wry. "Like I said. Stupid pretty."

There were a hundred different thoughts tumbling around inside Midorima's skull, so many that they ran together into a strange staticky roar. She stared at Takao instead and passed her tongue over her lips, tasting the candied stickiness of Takao's preferred lip gloss on them, and swallowed hard. "You're not stupid."

Takao went wide-eyed, startled at that. "Shin-chan..." She smiled then, something softer than her usual cheerful grin, practically shy. "I'm not?"

Staticky brain or not, Midorima knew the answer to this one; it came straight from her best instincts. "No, you're not." 

She'd seen Takao red with exertion and with laughter, but she'd never seen her go pink like this, color blooming across her cheeks, soft and happy. "Oh." Takao said it like she was wondering over it, quiet and amazed. Then she shook herself, turning brisk again. "Okay, lipstick and then we're done."

"It can wait." Midorima reached out to draw Takao close again and was pleased by how easily Takao let her do it. 

They never did get around to finishing the makeup tutorial that afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #knb_kink @ DW  
> #KagaKuro genderswap  
> #I just like girlsmut okay?

It's a damn good thing Kagami already knew what Kuroko was like on the basketball court. If she hadn't, the way Kuroko is in bed probably would have broken her brain a little, at least the first time, because it's not like Kuroko knows how to hold back in bed any better than she does when she's playing. Before they'd ever kissed, Kagami had been halfway persuaded that Kuroko would be at least a little shy or hesitant—who wouldn't be, kissing another girl, even in these modern and enlightened times?—but that hadn't been the case at all. Kuroko was the one who initiated the kiss and there hadn't been any doubts at all in the way she'd slid her tongue past Kagami's lips, licking into her mouth for the first time while Kagami stood still, her hands hovering over Kuroko's back. Kuroko had watched her until Kagami settled her hands against Kuroko's hips, and then she closed her eyes and let Kagami press her closer. 

Kagami doesn't see any reason not to let Kuroko set the pace, though, because Kuroko never gives her any cause for complaint, not when they're playing and not when they're like this, sprawled across Kagami's bed and all bare to each other. The afternoon sunlight is streaming in through the window and lights up Kuroko's skin, warming it to cream and rose and gold. Kagami's a little past the point of being able to appreciate that the way it deserves, because this afternoon Kuroko is in a determined kind of mood. (But when is she ever _not_?) Kagami has no idea how long it's been since Kuroko put down the kanji flashcards and suggested they take a break—hell, right now she's not even sure which kanji make up her own _name_ —because Kuroko has her spread out against her sheets and is driving her _insane_. She's got one hand on Kagami's chest, cupped around her breast to stroke it; she keeps rubbing her thumb over and around the nipple, and there's just enough callus on her fingers to drag against Kagami's skin in a way that hovers on the edge of what she can bear.

Kuroko's using her other hand to hold Kagami's hip, bearing down on it with enough of her weight to keep Kagami pinned pretty much in place. This is necessary because Kuroko is lounging between Kagami's thighs and paying no mind to the way Kagami is writhing, scrabbling against the sheets and trying to find the purchase to do something, push herself away from the slow, insistent stroke of Kuroko's tongue or to rock her hips against it. Kagami doesn't even know what she wants anymore or how long Kuroko has kept her like this while she laps at Kagami, flirting just the tip of her tongue into her and tracing tiny, deliberate circles around her clit, but she does know that it feels like every muscle in her body is aching with how ready she is to come. Her throat is dry from panting and she's got both hands twisted in the sheets, hanging onto them for dear life, but it's not doing any good. She's on the cusp of coming, can feel the pressure of it singing up and down her spine, building with every soft brush of Kuroko's tongue, but she can't quite get there, not when Kuroko pulls back just a little every time Kagami can feel that crescendo coming.

"God," Kagami gasps, not sure whether she's speaking Japanese or English or some unholy blend of both. She doesn't care anymore, she doesn't care about _anything_ as long as Kuroko will just let her come. "God, Kuroko, _please_...!"

Maybe that's what Kuroko has been angling for all along, because she strokes her fingers over Kagami's breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger as she slides the flat of her tongue over Kagami's clit. The sudden spike of sensation does it; Kagami loses track of everything, the way she's tossing her head against her pillow and the sounds she makes and the way her back comes off the bed. There's nothing but the ripples of pleasure running up and down her body and the way her vision whites out as she comes, and it takes a long time for her to subside again afterwards. Her body keeps seizing with the aftershocks of pleasure, shaking her while she gasps for breath, and she can't really do anything but lie there in a daze.

"Jesus Christ," she says after a while, once she can focus her eyes enough to look at Kuroko. "I think you killed me."

Kuroko's the best person she knows for keeping a straight face, but even so, that gets a little bit of a smile out of her. "You're still breathing."

"Barely." Kagami tries to summon the will and the strength to push the sweaty hair out of her eyes. The best she can manage is a sort of half-hearted flop of her arm. "Look, I can't even move."

Kuroko frowns. "That's unfortunate," she says. "And very selfish of you."

Kagami grins at her, not fooled. "You were the one who decided to turn me into a limp noodle."

Kuroko makes a little exasperated sound. "I suppose I have to do everything around here." She sits up, peeling away from where she's nestled herself against Kagami's shoulder, and prowls up the bed. Kagami's perfectly able to appreciate the view now and watches her with open satisfaction, enjoying the leanness of Kuroko's muscles and the small, soft curve of her breasts—Kuroko is annoyed by how flat she is, Kagami knows that, but she likes it. It just makes it clear to see how much work Kuroko puts into training—there's barely an ounce of spare flesh on her. 

She particularly appreciates the view when Kuroko kneels over her, her knees planted against Kagami's pillow, and she reaches down to spread herself open. Kuroko's soaking wet and the heavy smell of her arousal spills down to Kagami. It hardly takes Kuroko's pointed, "If you wouldn't mind?" for Kagami to find the wherewithal to lift her head and bury her face between Kuroko's thighs. She loves this, loves the taste of Kuroko on her tongue and the softness of Kuroko against her mouth, the sounds Kuroko makes as she slides her mouth over her and the way Kuroko threads her fingers into her hair, holding Kagami right where she wants her. Kagami licks at her, long firm strokes to make Kuroko gasp and tighten her fingers in Kagami's hair, and short light laps around her clit to make her moan and shudder. 

Some other time she'll pay Kuroko back for the way Kuroko drew things out a little while ago, maybe, but this time Kagami doesn't want to wait for that. She wants to see Kuroko as undone as she is, and maybe that's what lends her the necessary energy and coordination to lift her hand and slide her fingers into Kuroko. She presses them deep, two of them to curve against the slick grip of Kuroko's body, and she strokes them hard against the way Kuroko begins to move, rocking herself against Kagami's mouth as she begins to pant for breath. Kagami lets that be her guide, lapping at Kuroko steadily as she curls her fingers inside Kuroko, rubbing the tips of them against her when she finds the spot that makes Kuroko shudder. After that it doesn't take long for Kuroko to cry out, something wordless and surprisingly full-throated, as she bucks against Kagami's mouth and fingers, coming all over her. 

Kagami lets her head fall back against the pillow, licking the taste of Kuroko off her lips and enjoying the sight of Kuroko flushed and breathless over her, and is there to catch her and ease her down when she finally subsides. Kuroko stretches out over her, still breathing hard when she presses her mouth to Kagami's. Kagami hums to her and curls an arm around her, opening her mouth to Kuroko's. Kuroko's mouth still tastes of her, which is almost enough to put a curl of arousal through her, but it's just as good to lie here with Kuroko and trade slow kisses back and forth, until she can't tell where the taste of herself leaves off and the taste of Kuroko begins.

Kuroko is the one who eventually says, "We should get back to studying."

"We should," Kagami agrees, but she makes no move to get up. She would feel guiltier about that but for the fact that Kuroko doesn't move, either.

They don't get much more studying done that afternoon, for some reason, but Kagami doesn’t mind that as long as Kuroko doesn't.


End file.
